Numb
by Femme Jade M
Summary: “I think I’ve done something that should hurt.”


**Numb**

Status: Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!

Warning: **BLOOD and lots of it in this, also, angst, what could be considered as self mutilation, and a distinct feeling of being numb. Also, the person here may be considered ****OOC. Just so I don't get any reviews complaining about the **OOC** nature of this.**

Notes: this idea came from the character Farfarello in Weiss Kruez.

Summary: _"I think I've done something that should hurt."_

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I think I've done something that should hurt. I used to feel pain didn't I? Well it doesn't matter if did now, all that matters is this blood dripping into my hands. It's blood from my face.

I think I've done something that should hurt. I can't tell though, everything is numb, numb, numb. A kind of numb much like this blood dripping into my hands. Blood that is slowly dripping into my cupped hands.

I think I've done something…something that should hurt. I can barely feel my face though. I can barely see through this blood. My right eye seems to be closed, but I can't tell one way or another. There's just this slowly dripping blood.

I think I need to see what I've done that should hurt, but doesn't. There's a mirror in this room…I think. I should get up and look in it, see why my face is bleeding. Wipe the blood out of my eyes. Yet, the blood in my hands is just dripping and rippling now. Drip, drip, drip…ripple, ripple, ripple… It will spill onto the floor soon, but I don't seem to care.

I think that it should hurt whatever I have done. Maybe I should just go and see, go and see, go and see why my face bleeds. I flatten my cupped hands and the blood spills to the floor between my fingers. My legs seem to shake as I stand and I wonder why? Did I do something that should hurt to them too? When I look down at them, there is blood soaked into the blue of my pants. Blood, the same blood dripping off my face, dripping off my hands, coating the white tile floor.

I think that my mysterious missing pain will come back if only I can reach the mirror. I just need to see, I need to know what I have done. Carefully I take a step, watching the blood on the floor splash on my feet. I have lost a lot of blood, haven't I? No wonder I am so dizzy. Maybe going to the mirror is a bad idea. I should just lie back down and sleep. Oh, sleep sounds so good, sounds like the blood splashing on the floor. Instead though, I take another shaky step. This time my foot slips through the blood and I fall backwards.

I think that falling down that hard should hurt. Why it doesn't hurt I can't be certain of. All I know is the fall causes my face to bleed more. I sit up slowly, the dizziness is almost overwhelming. Making me rather nauseous. Blood rushes faster down my face when I am fully up right; pouring between my legs and staining my pants more than before. Carefully I push myself up, gripping the wall to stand up properly. My legs shake more, blood slips into my eyes again, and I take another step forward.

I think that some of this blood isn't mine when I reach the sink. There is dried rust colored blood staining the water spout. Dried blood prints from whoever was here before me when they gripped the edge of the sink to right themselves. There is old water in the bottom of the sink, coloring pink with each droplet of blood from my face. It's another drip – ripple effect. I am entranced by the water getting darker and rippling and transforming into something wholly not it's original self.

I think that I have done something to my arms too. For they're weak when I lean further onto them to watch my blood drip faster into the water. And my hands slip from the blood coating them; causing me to slip forward and slam my chin into the water spout. There is again only that strange numbness. No pain, not even any pleasure. It's only numb, numb as my face, numb as my shaking legs, numb as my weak arms, numb…numb…numb, numb, numb, NUMB! I squint down at the water a dark red-pink broken from the drip, drip, drip…ripple effect when I crashed into it.

I think I have done something that should be painful. And I realize I have when I finally look in the mirror…

My right eye is missing, only a gaping bloody hole is left, the tissue torn and ragged. My left eye is tearing with more blood and I am entranced with this numb hole in my head. It's more of that numbness and I can almost recall that at one point I could feel pain, couldn't I? I glance away to look at my face. Lacerations of all sizes, all shapes, and all depths are decorated across my face. Blood pulsing from them in time with my heart beat. Some of the cuts have met bone, and what should be spots of white bone are coated in blood.

Slowly I raise my hand to wipe the blood from my eyes so I can see better and I notice the gashes across my arm. Clothing torn and hanging in bloody strips off my arm. Why doesn't it hurt? It should hurt; there should be so much pain I'm passed out on the floor I was sitting on. I shouldn't be able to stand here and stare into my reflection in curiosity at the cuts. At the profuse blood that doesn't seem to want to stop.

I glance down at my legs again and finally notice they are slashed as well. The pants hanging in strips of blood that drag on the floor. Slowly I glance back up and meet my single eye. How did this happen?

Oh yeah, there's a knife sitting on the toilet seat. I glance over at it, there is blood shining on the sinister metal. Glinting in the dim light of the bathroom. Bathroom? When did I go to the bathroom? I glance around, it's a large bathroom. And there is blood everywhere. Dried hands prints smeared across the wall.

Then I remember…

This is my bathroom…I came in here to wash my hands for dinner because mom said it was ready. I had brought the kitchen knife with me. At the time I didn't know why…now I do.

I came to test my pain. To see if _he_ was still there after all these years; after his righteous defeat; after my loneliness became too much.

The dried blood on the walls must be from before I blacked out. Distantly I can here someone running up the stairs. Probably my brother, mom always sends him to get me when it's been too long. He knocks politely on the door. I think he said my name, but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my heart that pushes more blood out of the slowly clotting lacerations.

He pounds on the door again and I almost laugh because he wants to use _alohomora to open the door, but he's not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts yet. His steps echo downstairs again and I look into the gaping hole that was my eye. I really should have moved out on my own after the war. Maybe I will now._

I pull my wand out of my torn pants, noticing the fine tremors racing through my muscles. I'm dizzy again and my stomach is in sickening knots. I blink and then raise the wand to my eye. I don't want them to be able to heal it when they find me. I want every single one of these scars. I cast the spell until I'm drained, but happy. They won't be able to heal them properly now. And I laugh until it becomes too hard to stand.

The blood splattered floor should be cold, but everything is numb…numb…numb…

Distantly I hear my dad's voice saying my name.

"Ginny…oh Ginny what have you done?" and it's full of a pain I can barely remember anymore. So I smile at them.

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I might write more to this, but it depends if I ever get in this type of mood again. Please Review!


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